


The Airport

by Dancezwithwolvez



Series: The Power of Being Loved [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anthea (Sherlock) is the Best PA, Developing Relationship, Feelings Realization, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:33:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24115087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dancezwithwolvez/pseuds/Dancezwithwolvez
Summary: Greg comes to terms with the feelings he has for Mycroft.
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade
Series: The Power of Being Loved [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1739944
Comments: 4
Kudos: 49





	The Airport

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Lavender_and_Vanilla for being the most amazing beta I can ever ask for.

**_5 months prior to Mycroft's trip_ **

The realisation that he and Myc should end up together had rather struck him like a lightning bolt. He was wary of the suddenness of it. His previous marriage had been the result of one such misguided epiphany and he didn't want to risk what he had with Mycroft for this. Mycroft was too special for that. What he had with Mycroft was too special for that. Mycroft had been wearing his soft, pink, woolly jumper when it had struck him. The weather had given him a rather furious flush to his cheeks and the supposed IceMan had been passionately talking about why Jodie Whitaker had been a good choice for 13th doctor and he had beautiful words for people who felt that Doctor Who should be played only by men. The speech had left him slightly breathless, and another layer of flush graced his face. It was then that Greg realised that he could listen to Myc speak all day, come home to this every day. 

Mycroft was surprisingly easy to talk to. The long, humongous, complicated vocabulary was replaced with a vocabulary that Greg understood. Their evenings consisted of smooth jumps from one topic to another. Greg remembered one evening where they had started out discussing the Royal Wedding and before the night was out they had ended up on the difference between a biscuit and a cookie. Greg had never experienced something like this- something that was so simple and yet so profound.

The initial nitpicking of salads to a half eaten lunch course to completing a three course meal, he had come a long way. Mycroft had been ( and still was) very conscious about his figure, no thanks to Sherlock and his "wonderful" family but the gentle prodding of Greg to eat more and more every time they met had worked wonders for Myc. Mycroft wouldn't believe it, but Greg thought that he was a walking piece of art- the long legs, slender fingers, the pale neck, the errant curl that he had the privilege of knowing on rare weekends, coupled with his erudite personality, just made Greg fall for him again and again.

The past 8 months had been one of the best times in Greg's life. Mycroft had managed to worm his way into the wearied Detective Inspector's life and make it bright and beautiful again. They had steadily progressed from strangers who had come together out of concern for Sherlock to best friends who texted each other their weird parts of the day or the horrible inefficiencies surrounding them or just asked each other how they were.

Before leaving for St. Petersburg, Mycroft had informed him that their communication might not be as frequent as they both would have liked. He had said that if everything went as per plan he would be back in a week, but if it were not, it would take him anywhere from 2 weeks to 2 months to come back home.

And everything had not been alright. Mycroft had been forced to stay back for a month and Greg was really, really worried about him. His worry mostly stemmed from the fact that Anthea was not there with him. Anthea, it seemed, had gone to talk to the orange headed knucklehead in America while Mycroft managed things in Russia.

The minute Greg had heard about Anthea's absence in Mycroft's troupe, his anxiety had reached sky high. She was one of the two people in his life who made sure that he put himself before he put his job. And with her miles and miles away from Mycroft, Greg didn't trust Myc to take care of himself. His lack of self care had started since childhood when he was constantly teased for being a bit on the heavier side, hence the obsessive need to starve himself or exercise himself to an inch of his life. Even now, when he was so slender and lithe, he would run for an hour after he ate a particularly enticing, high calorie meal. It took a lot of attempts from Greg, and Mycroft eventually reduced the frequency of postprandial exercise.

Mycroft had informed Greg the day before that he would most certainly come back this Friday and Friday was tomorrow. Greg couldn't wait. He would be finally seeing his friend after a month. Never had he been so excited for someone to come back home. Putting his insomnia to good use, he decided to bake Mycroft's favourite cake - a cake which just exuded chocolate from its every pore. Everytime Greg had baked that cake for him, Myc would lose himself and the thread of the conversation. It was really adorable to look at a chocolate stained lipped Mycroft. He would look like a kid being caught with his hands down the cookie jar whenever Greg would clear his throat to garner his attention. In time, Greg stopped doing that and just enjoyed Mycroft enjoying his cake. And Greg would find newer items of delicacy that indulged Mycroft's sweet tooth and took his breath away. 

He couldn't wait to see Myc's reaction when he opened the box. Whistling to himself, Greg set off to bake. 

* * *

Greg's phone pinged with Myc's message. The message he got back from Mycroft was hilarious to say the least. The blatant use of exclamation marks followed by question marks reflected the sort of influence that Greg had on Mycroft. He knew, for certain, that pre-Greg Mycroft would scoff at people who resorted to such egregious punctuation techniques. He left out a quiet chuckle as he fired off another one of his punctuation abominations by using it in the form of an emoji.

He had landed.

But Greg's upturned face slowly assumed a downward slope when he saw that Myc would be held back for debriefing. He just had to make do with whatever time Myc could give him. He sent off a message asking him just a small portion of time, hoping that his desperation wouldn't come across the 4.5 inch screen.

**10 minutes later**

When Mycroft neared him, he noticed that his waistcoat hung loose and he had black circles around his eyes. His gait seemed strained too. Greg was almost reduced to tears looking at his best friend. But he schooled his expression to take a more positive approach and welcomed the auburn. 

As soon as the tired, curious blue eyes caught Greg's eyes, the languid face burst into a small, shy smile. Greg's heart was overflowing with radiant happiness at the small gesture and some of that managed to get on to his face, as a wide, beaming smile. 

Mycroft easily fit into Greg's outstretched arms and Greg could feel the relief washing over him when he held Mycroft. It felt like a piece of him had been restored back and he felt complete. He hugged Mycroft for longer than necessary but Mycroft had absolutely no qualms about it. He looked equally happy to be held and he seemed to be less stressed than he was ten seconds before.

The close proximity made it so much harder for Greg to not place a tender, loving kiss on Mycroft's temple and hold him even tighter and closer. Instead he opted for a gentle hand on top of Mycroft's forearm and pulled out of the hug.

"Do you want to know what your surprise is? That is if you have not already deduced it." Greg said teasingly. 

"No I haven't. I didn't wish to undermine the efforts you put into the making of my surprise." 

Greg teased him again, " So you  _ do _ know that it is something that I have made and not something I bought."

Flustered Mycroft was amongst Greg's top five contenders for "Adorable Mycroft". His cheeks would get blotches of red flush and he would continuously open and close his mouth, not unlike a goldfish. 

"N-no. No. I-I-"

"I am just teasing you. Come on. Haven't got much time, have I. Got to give your surprise before you leave. " 

  
  
  
  



End file.
